


Depthless

by PenNoire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenNoire/pseuds/PenNoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loving a Potter was never going to be easy. After Al is cursed, Scorpius must come to terms with the fact that things may never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Depthless

“There’s a Mr Potter here to see you, Mr Malfoy.”

Scorpius frowns and glances up from his case notes. The ornate gilded clock sat on his desk, a birthday present from his late grandfather, reads half past three. Scorpius sighs in frustration. He thought he made it clear after the last time that he would very much prefer not to be disturbed at work. Obviously, he mustn’t have been clear enough. He plasters on a smile as he looks up at Giselle – after all, it’s not her fault.

“Send him in, please, Giselle. Thanks.”

The company secretary nods her head once and retreats, pulling his office door shut behind her. Scorpius lets the quill drop from his fingers and pulls his reading glasses off his nose, rubbing his temples with his fingers. Why oh why did it have to be today? This is, perhaps, the most important case of his young career, and it demands his full attention. Matthew Phillips, one of the senior partners and Scorpius’ supervisor, even hinted the other day that, should Scorpius win this one, he could be moved up the rankings for a promotion. He straightens the plaque on the front of his desk and sits up straight as his office door opens again. The man that steps in, though, is not the one Scorpius expects.

“Mr Potter, what a surprise. How can I help you?”

The man who will become Scorpius’ father-in-law in just three weeks’ time smiles tiredly as he takes one of the chairs in front of Scorpius’ desk. “Scorpius, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Harry?”

Scorpius flushes lightly. “Sorry, Harry. Force of habit, I suppose. What can I do for you? Is there a problem with some of the arrangements?”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not with the arrangements, no. It’s Al.”

Scorpius’ stomach gives a nervous flutter. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is he alright?”

Harry bites his lip, and the only thing that stops Scorpius descending into panic is the fact that Harry is here and not with Al, so it can’t be life-threatening. Harry sighs and drags a hand back through his hair.

“We had a breakthrough in one of our cases...”

“The Poulter case? Illegal importing of Australian mermaid scales?” Scorpius asks.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Auror cases are supposed to be confidential.”

Scorpius winces guiltily when he realises he’s dropped Al in it. “Don’t blame me.”

Harry nods sharply, and Scorpius knows that, son of the Head Auror or not, Al is going to get a stern talking to. “We managed to get a lead and we went after him at lunchtime. We ended up in a wand-fight and... Scorpius, Al’s been cursed.”

“Shit,” Scorpius swears, digging his nails into his palms, “Is he alright?”

Harry pauses. “He’s at St Mungo’s. They’re working on him, but he’s distressed and asking for you.”

Scorpius nods once and hurriedly sends off a memo to Phillips, citing a family emergency, along with the case notes. He sighs wistfully as they fly off; there go his chances of a promotion, but that’s unimportant compared to his fiancée’s welfare. Harry holds out his arm.

“I can apparate us straight there.”

Scorpius nods, grabs his cloak off the hook on the back of the door and grips Harry’s forearm. The sensation of apparition, as always, is unpleasant, but he still manages to land gracefully on his feet. He instinctively reaches out and supports Harry who, according to Al, has never been very good at any magical means of travel save flying. Harry shoots him a grateful look and Scorpius glances about in confusion.

“This doesn’t look like St Mungo’s,” he says cautiously, not wanting to imply that Harry has apparated them to the wrong place.

“We’re in the basement,” Harry says as he opens a door and beckons Scorpius through, “Where the therapy pool is.”

“Therapy pool?” Scorpius asks, but before he gets a response he hears a shout, the voice achingly familiar. He forgets all about Harry and hurries down the corridor, towards the sound of Al’s voice. At the end of the corridor is a single door, which Scorpius throws open. He instantly has to squint to protect his eyes; in comparison to the gloom of the basement, this room is bright and the light reflects off the surface of a large pool, throwing brilliant shimmers around the room. A small group of people are gathered at one end, all dressed in lime green Healer robes save for a single figure Scorpius recognises as Mike Spiggins, Al’s Auror partner.

“Mr Potter, if you’ll just let us...”

“Mr Potter, please, we need to...”

“No!” Al yells, and Scorpius can hear the panic in his voice, “Get that thing away from me!”

“Al!” Scorpius calls, and all the heads swivel instantly in his direction. The Healers look frustrated. Spiggins looks relieved and steps to one side, pulling one of the Healers with him, and Scorpius can finally see Al, sat on the edge of the pool. His bright green eyes are slightly wild and he reaches out helplessly to Scorpius.

“Scorp...”

Scorpius’ heart breaks at the pleading, terrified tone, and before he knows it he is knelt at Al’s side, pulling his head onto his shoulder and hugging him tightly. Al’s arms slip around Scorpius’ waist and he holds on for dear life. Scorpius rocks him gently, reaching up to thread his hand through Al’s unruly black hair. It feels different, slipperier, the strands flowing through his fingers like silk. Scorpius plants a soft kiss on Al’s forehead and feels him shudder.

“I’m sorry, I know you were busy today...” he mumbles.

Scorpius snorts and toys with the sleeve of Al’s wet T-shirt. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

Al glances up, the look in his eyes saying that he doesn’t believe Scorpius but is willing to let the matter slide. He reaches down and tries to thread his fingers through Scorpius’, but the webbing prevents the movement. He sniffs.

“Poulter wasn’t importing Australian mermaid scales.”

“So I gathered,” Scorpius says softly as together they glance down at the tail has replaced Al’s legs, fused seamlessly to his body just below his bellybutton. The scales are small and smooth, about the same size as Scorpius’ thumbnail, and a shimmering iridescent green the same shade as Al’s eyes. The tail itself is longer than his legs were, probably about five feet, and tapers smoothly before flaring out into translucent fins at the base. The bottom two or three feet are immersed in the pool and every little movement Al makes sends ripples out over the surface of the water.

“There were bodies,” Al says, shuddering, “Bodies of other people he did this to. He transfigured them then pulled all their scales off and left them to bleed to death.” He picks at the webbing between his fingers and glares at one of the Healers. “I don’t want them coming anywhere near me with that thing.”

Scorpius twists round and narrows his eyes when he sees the contraption the Healer is holding. It looks like a cross between a pair of tongs and a claw hammer. Scorpius can guess what it must be used for and he lowers a hand and places it protectively on Al’s tail.

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” the Healer says, “But it’s essential we get some scales for analysis...”

“Don’t lie to me,” Scorpius barks, “There’s no information you can get from a mermaid’s scales that can’t be obtained from a blood sample.”

The Healer colours and looks away. Al wraps his hand around Scorpius’ wrist and he blinks, not realising he’s drawn his wand.

“Thanks,” Al says softly, “But please don’t call me a mermaid.”

Scorpius sighs and brushes Al’s cheek with a thumb. “Sorry. Merman. Better?”

Al chuckles and the sound warms Scorpius’ heart. “I suppose. Do you know how long it will be before they can figure out how to reverse it?”

“Not yet,” Harry says and Scorpius jumps, not realising Al’s dad has come up behind them and settled himself cross-legged on the ground, “We’ve got Poulter in the holding cells and the application to get veritaserum for questioning has been submitted. As soon as I get confirmation that it’s been approved I’ll head over and quiz him myself. Hopefully once we know what spell he used the Healers will be able to reverse it.”

“Thanks,” Al says softly, and Scorpius can see Harry’s face soften. This isn’t a boss reassuring one of his employees; this is a father reassuring his son. Scorpius knows the pair share a very close bond. Al was the only one of the Potter children to choose to live with Harry after his divorce, and whilst Harry, like any other parent, would never admit to having a favourite child, Scorpius knows he is far closer to Al than either James or Lily.

“What do you want to do in the meantime?” Harry asks.

Al frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to stay here at St Mungo’s, or do you want to go home with Scorpius? You’re welcome at mine as well, of course.”

Al raises his eyebrows. “You do realise I can’t leave the water? Part of me has to be submerged or I’ll be dead in five minutes!”

“We have a bath,” Scorpius points out.

Al glares. “I am not living in our bathtub.”

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m going to be living in our bathtub,” Al says once Scorpius has lowered him in. Scorpius sighs in relief. The apparition was nerve-wrecking; as soon as Al’s tail was pulled out of the pool he went white and started shaking, gasping for breath, and didn’t stop until he was once again beneath the water. He is too long for the bath, his tail curling back on itself. It looks uncomfortable, and Scorpius absently spells the bath larger. Al sighs in relief and stretches out.

“It was your decision,” Scorpius points out.

Al frowns. “I know. I just... I didn’t want to stay there. I didn’t trust them, especially the one who wanted to tear my scales off.”

“I wouldn’t let them do that to you,” Scorpius says as he lowers the toilet lid and sits down. It’s not very comfortable, and for the first time he regrets throwing away the pink, fluffy cover James got them as a joke present a few years ago.

“I know,” Al says again and stretches out a hand. Scorpius grips it as firmly as he can around the webbing. Al smiles and pulls up his T-shirt slightly, absently tracing a finger over the area where his skin blends seamlessly into scales. He sighs despondently and Scorpius squeezes his hand.

“It’ll be okay,” he says, “Your dad will get everything sorted in no time.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Al counters, “What if I’m stuck like this for a while?”

Panic dances in Al’s eyes and Scorpius quickly gets off the loo and kneels down next to the bath. He cups Al’s chin with one hand and brushes his cheek with a thumb.

“I love you, Al,” he says, “And nothing’s going to change that. Not this-” he kisses Al’s slippery hair, “-or this-” he lifts Al’s hand and kisses the webbing between the fingers, “-or this.” He slips a hand under the cool water and gently caresses the first line of scales on Al’s stomach, eliciting a low groan from the transformed man. A moment later Scorpius’ head is yanked up by a hand in his hair and his mouth is crushed against Al’s in a hard, bruising kiss. Scorpius usually doesn’t like it rough but he can sense Al needs this, and so he growls and reciprocates, reaching up to hold Al’s head still so he can plunder his mouth with his tongue. Al makes a curious clicking noise in the back of his throat and fights back, duelling Scorpius’ tongue with his own and nipping softly.

Scorpius gasps. He hadn’t realised that Al’s teeth have changed. He pulls back momentarily and stares. Al’s mouth is open as he pants and Scorpius can see that his canines have sharpened and lengthened slightly, giving him a slightly feral look. Al whines and the sound goes straight to Scorpius’ groin. He moans and crashes their mouths back together, shuddering as Al nips his lips and tongue. The tiny pinpricks of pain are heavenly and before he realises what he is doing Scorpius thrusts a hand underwater, searching, but he can’t find what he’s looking for. He freezes, shocked, and Al abruptly tears his mouth away and rolls over, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Scorpius says, ignoring the throbbing need in his groin.

“It’s not...”

“It is,” Scorpius says firmly, “Don’t worry. We’re going to have you back on your feet in no time.”

He waves his wand and conjures a tiny bed next to the bath. Al rolls over at the rush of air and frowns.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Scorpius says, “I’m going to sleep.”

Al bites his lip. “But you won’t be able to sleep. You always say you don’t sleep well when you’re not in your own bed.”

Scorpius stares at him incredulously. “It’s not the bed, you idiot. It’s you. I don’t sleep well when I’m not with you.”

Al flushes and smiles softly. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too,” Scorpius says, and half an hour later he drifts off to sleep with Al’s hand clutched tightly in his.

* * *

“I hear you’ve got a fish for a fiancée,” Scorpius’ father drawls when he arrives at the manor the following day.

Scorpius glares at him. “Don’t push me, father. Not today, not over this.”

“My apologies,” Draco says, “Half-fish.”

Scorpius whirls, his hand curled into a fist, but at the last moment he slams it into the wall rather than his father’s face. Draco’s eyes go wide with shock.

“I said,” Scorpius grinds out, “Don’t push me.”

He stalks past his father, heading for the family library. His hand throbs and he withdraws his wand, healing his cracked knuckles with a silent spell. He curses his father’s insensitivity. Does he really think that this is a laughing matter? And he wonders why Scorpius doesn’t take him up on his dinner invitations more often.

The library has always been Scorpius’ favourite room in the manor. Tall windows let in streams of sunlight that illuminate the dust motes floating in the air. When Scorpius was little, his grandmother used to tell him it was fairy dust, and he spent hours running round trying to collect it in a jar. He runs a hand over one of the tall, solid oak bookcases, fingers bumping over familiar knots in the wood. He misses this room, but Al doesn’t want to live in the manor and he is more important than the books.

Scorpius quickly makes his rounds of the shelves, identifying books he thinks may contain information on either the curse that transformed Al or the counter-curse that will change him back. The ones he selects make a sizeable pile on the table and he sighs as he sits down, pulling the first one to him and beginning to read.

After perhaps an hour he groans, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his temples. The books he’s chosen are all in old English and the archaic language is making his head spin and pound. In fact, he’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice the footsteps until his father is stood right behind him.

“I apologise,” Draco says, “Is there any way I can assist you in your research?”

Scorpius sighs and pushes the stack of books in his father’s direction. “Help yourself.”

Draco seats himself with a flourish and takes the top book. “It would help if you told me what, exactly, I’m looking for.”

Scorpius scowls, bringing to mind his father’s jibes in the foyer. “I thought you knew.”

“I know only what The Prophet reports, which I highly doubt is comprehensive or accurate.”

Scorpius curses, ignoring his father’s disapproving glare. They’d hoped to keep Al’s predicament out of the papers.

“What do they say?”

“That your beau was involved in apprehending a man who transfigured people into mermaids, killed them and stripped them of their scales, and somehow got turned into a mermaid himself.”

“Merman, but otherwise that sounds about right,” Scorpius says as he closes his book, puts it to one side and picks up another.

Draco taps his fingers on the desk. “You’re welcome to keep him in the lake on the grounds, if you like.”

“You’re making him sound like a pet!” Scorpius spits, “And the lake wouldn’t be suitable.”

“Why not?” Draco asks, “Where is he now?”

“In our bathtub,” Scorpius says. It sounds slightly stupid when he says it out loud.

“The bathtub,” Draco repeats, “And that’s more suitable than the lake?”

“The lake would be too cold,” Scorpius explains, “He’s a warm water merman. Australian.”

“Australian?” Draco repeats again, “That’s a shame – even after a transfiguration he’s still stuck with the Potter looks. Poor boy.”

Scorpius allows himself a small grin, used to his father’s sense of humour. “I’d love him even he was a cold water selkie with green hair, grey skin and yellow eyes. I have to admit, though, I’m glad he can breathe air and talk.”

“I’m sure,” Draco says and he sweeps the books off the table, “And now I know that, I can direct your search. The resultant species of a transfiguration is spell-dependent, so I doubt you’ll find an answer in an English book as they will probably only cover British mermaid transfiguration. I will Floo my fifth cousin twice removed in Australia and see if he can help.”

Scorpius blinks. “I didn’t know you had a fifth cousin twice removed in Australia.”

“We don’t talk about that branch of the family,” Draco says, “Australian equivalent of Hufflepuffs, the lot of them. You go and tell the house elves to prepare something for us to eat while I fire-call Maurice.”

He leaves the room and Scorpius gapes. Maurice Malfoy. He can’t help it – he laughs.

* * *

Scorpius returns home at mid-afternoon. He heads straight to the bathroom, freezing when he sees who’s sat on the loo, keeping Al company.

“James,” he says politely.

Al’s older brother turns round and Scorpius braces himself for the glare. James has never approved of his little brother’s relationship with Scorpius, and whilst he never says anything when Al or any other member of the family is around, his distaste is written in every single aspect of his body language. He’ll glare, sneer, refuse to speak to Scorpius and generally treat him like something to be scraped off the underneath of a shoe.

Today, though, there is none of that. When James turns to Scorpius, the only emotion in his eyes is concern. Not for Scorpius, of course, but for Al. James may not approve of Scorpius, but it’s never stopped him looking out for Al.

“Scorpius,” he says, just as politely.

“Wow, I think that’s the first time there’s ever been a civil greeting between you two,” Al quips, “I’ll alert the press.”

The bath’s been spelled deeper, Scorpius realises. Al’s arms are folded on the side, and he’s submerged up to his chest in warm water. Yesterday’s T-shirt is gone, leaving Al bare-chested, and Scorpius abruptly realises that Al is absolutely, completely, one hundred percent naked. Scorpius is powerless to stop the flush spreading up his cheeks as he steps forwards and leans down to kiss Al gently. Al hmms in contentment.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

“Oh hell, if you two are about to get sappy then I’m off,” James announces. He stands up and ruffles Al’s hair fondly, dancing backwards before the water Al flicks at him can drench his clothes.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Al warns him.

“I won’t,” James promises, before meeting Scorpius’ eyes, “If you need help with him, just ask.”

Scorpius, too shocked to say anything, just nods and there is a sharp crack as James disapparates. Al punches the water angrily, sending a small tidal wave over the side of the bath and soaking the floor.

“’If you need help with him’ – what does he think I am, a toddler?”

“Of course not,” Scorpius says, vanishing the water off the floor, “He’s just recognising the fact that at this moment in time you are physically incapable of doing everything you’re used to doing.”

Al sighs, refolds his arms on the side of the bath and drops his chin onto them. “Come here? Please?”

Scorpius obliges and the kiss he shares with Al is tender, both of them pouring frustration and longing in equal measure into it. Scorpius cups Al’s cheek and trails a finger down the shell of his ear, eliciting a groan and a small nip on his lower lip. Al licks the wound gently before pulling back with a sigh.

“We’d better stop,” he whispers, “Before I try to do something I physically can’t.”

Scorpius slips an arm around his shoulders and hugs him gently. “Okay. By the way, where’s your dad? I thought he was supposed to be keeping you company.”

Al ducks underwater, completely submerging himself before re-emerging and shaking his head like a dog, sending water droplets flying everywhere. “Sorry, my skin was getting dry. Dad’s at the Ministry; the approval for veritaserum came through, so he’s interrogating Poulter. Hopefully they can figure out what the bastard used on me and get it reversed.”

“I’ve got my father involved in the search as well,” Scorpius says, “He contacted cousin Maurice in Australia...”

Al snorts. “You have an Australian cousin called Maurice Malfoy?”

“My reaction exactly,” Scorpius laughs, “Anyway, he’s sent over some books and we hope to find something in those – my father thought it likely that any information in our library would be on a British mermaid transfiguration, not Australian.”

“Merman,” Al corrects absently, “That makes sense. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I will,” Scorpius says, although he knows he can’t bring the books in here. The bathroom is warm and humid; the old tomes would rot in minutes.

“It’s just so boring in here,” Al says despondently, “I like being active. I’m not good at sitting on my arse and doing nothing.”

Scorpius winces – he hasn’t thought of that. “Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“No...” Al began before pausing, “Actually, some food would be nice. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”

“I’ll get you your favourite,” Scorpius promises and heads downstairs to whip up some of his speciality lasagne and garlic bread. It takes no time at all with the help of magic and shortly afterwards he heads back upstairs with two steaming plates. Al’s face lights up when he enters, but it quickly falls into a contemplative frown and then a grimace.

“Something wrong?” Scorpius asks, holding out Al’s plate.

Al physically recoils. “I don’t think merman taste buds will approve of lasagne. The smell’s making my stomach turn. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Scorpius says automatically, but it’s not. He looks forlornly down at the unwanted plate of lasagne. He doesn’t know why this seems to be affecting him more than anything else so far, but it is. Perhaps it’s because up until now, Al has still been Al. Same smile, same personality, same quirks, same sense of humour... Except for the loss of his legs and his confinement to the water, nothing about Al has really changed. Except, apparently, his love of Scorpius’ lasagne. Scorpius’ lasagne is Al’s comfort food – he asks for it when he’s tired or angry or upset or stressed, and Scorpius enjoys making it for him as it makes him feel like he’s being useful. The fact that Al doesn’t want it now, when he has more need of comfort than ever before, is like a physical blow to Scorpius’ stomach. It shouldn’t be affecting him this much, he knows – it’s only bloody food, for Merlin’s sake. Still, he can’t help what he feels, and suddenly his own plate is about as appetising as hippogriff dung. He vanishes both plates without a word.

“Can I get you something else instead?” he asks.

Al bites his lip. “This is going to sound crazy, but could you get me tuna?”

Scorpius blinks. “You hate tuna.”

“I know that,” Al says, “But I don’t think the merman does.”

Sure enough, when Scorpius returns with a tin of tuna Al wolfs it down, making small groans and moans of contentment as he swallows. Scorpius sits with his back against the enlarged bathtub and picks at his fingernails. He’s not really hungry anymore.

* * *

Scorpius’ eyes snap open when he hears the creak of floorboards. Keeping as still as possible he carefully extracts his wand, squinting in the darkness. He relaxes when he recognises Harry, and stows his wand away.

“Sorry,” Harry says, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’fine,” Scorpius yawns, stretching his arms above his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinks in confusion at the sight of the loo and sink, and suddenly realises that he’s fallen asleep propped up against the side of the bathtub. He groans – it’s no wonder his back and neck feel sore. Harry offers him a hand and Scorpius grasps it, pulling himself to his feet. He turns to check on Al and smiles softly. Al is fast asleep at the bottom of the bathtub, completely submerged. His cheek is propped on the back of his hand and his chest rises and falls steadily as he breathes in the water with ease. Scorpius isn’t sure how that works physiologically, being able to breathe both air and water, but he supposes there must be magic of some sort involved.

“Did you get anything out of Poulter?” he asks.

Even in the dark he can see Harry’s face fall, and his heart sinks. “We got the name of the spell he used, but he has no idea how to reverse it. Hermione and I have just spent six hours going through Ministry archives...” He pauses and grips Scorpius’ shoulder comfortingly. “We mustn’t lose hope. There are records we can’t access in the Department of Mysteries... I’ve set up an appointment first thing tomorrow...”

“My dad’s had some books sent over from Australia,” Scorpius says, “If you give me the spell my father and I can search those.”

Harry looks surprised but pulls out a scrap of parchment and a quill from the pocket of his Auror robes and dutifully writes down the incantation. “Thanks for this, Scorpius,” he says gratefully before turning to look down at his slumbering son, “Do you think we should wake him?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “If it was good news, I’d say yes. As it is, I think it can wait until morning.”

Harry nods and checks his watch. “It’s one in the morning. I suppose I’d better get some shut-eye; I’m meeting Hermione back in the vaults at seven.”

Scorpius winces. “Don’t exhaust yourself too much before the wedding.”

Harry looks sad. “If I don’t exhaust myself trying to fix this, will there still be a wedding?”

* * *

Scorpius is still considering that question as he waits in line at the fishmongers the following morning. The answer should be obvious – of course they’re still going to get married if Al is a merman. Aren’t they?

He forces himself to think about the practicalities. Al can’t live in the bathtub forever, and Scorpius wouldn’t survive in the middle of the ocean where Al would be more at home. As much as he hates the thought of it, moving somewhere warm and building a lake for Al to live in until they find the solution seems like the only option. He loves Al, after all, and wants to do what’s best for him. Facing the truth, though, is hard. He knows Al loves his job, but a part of Scorpius wishes he would have gone into a less dangerous field, like owning a clothes shop or being a librarian.

He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t realise he’s got to the front of the queue until someone snaps their fingers in front of his eyes.

“Wakey wakey, sunshine!”

He blinks and smiles apologetically at the dumpy woman behind the counter. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

“Not a problem, duck. What can I get for you?”

Scorpius quickly scans the display. “Er, I’ll get one turbot and one sea bream, please.”

“Do you want them filleting?” the woman asks.

“No,” Scorpius says, “I’ll take them whole, thanks.”

He wrinkles his nose as he hands over the muggle notes and takes the wrapped package of fish. It smells horrible and weighs rather a lot more than he expected. He sighs, tucks the package under his arm and leaves the shop, quickly ducking into a side alley so he can apparate home. Al’s waiting in the bath, exactly where Scorpius left him, and he cocks his head to one side and his nostrils flare when Scorpius walks into the bathroom.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Al breathes when Scorpius hands him the package.

Scorpius smiles weakly. That morning he’d brought Al all his usual favourite breakfast items, but once again Al hadn’t been able to stomach anything, prompting the trip to the fishmongers. Al hurriedly unwraps the fish and, without forewarning, sinks his sharp teeth into the turbot with a wet, squelching sound. Scorpius’ stomach rolls and he quickly takes his leave.

* * *

“Still nothing?” Draco asks when he joins his son in the library after lunch.

Scorpius quickly wipes his flushed face with a hand, pushing aside a book that goes into great detail about Al’s new anatomy and the process of mermaid reproduction but offers no hint on how to change him back. “No, nothing. Harry and Hermione haven’t found anything either.”

“Don’t lose heart, son,” Draco says, patting Scorpius’ shoulder, “If there’s an answer to find, Granger will find it.”

“She’s Weasley now,” Scorpius corrects absently. He supposes that’s the closest to a compliment Hermione’s ever had from his father.

“Habit,” Draco says dismissively, “Anyway, I don’t know if you’re interested, but Maurice has provided me with the Floo address of the Merfolk Liaison Officer at the Australian Magic Bureau. I’ve just spoken with him – he seems like a nice fellow...”

“Does he know how to reverse this?” Scorpius interrupts.

“No.”

“Then why would I want to talk to him?” Scorpius snaps, pulling another book forwards.

Draco sniffs and takes the other chair. “I was just trying to help.”

“I know, father,” Scorpius says wearily, “I just... just... I want my Al back.”

To his horror, the words in front of him start to blur as his eyes tear up. He sniffs and pushes the book away angrily. This can’t be happening now, not in front of his father, not when he needs to stay strong for Al. He swipes his arm across his eyes but the tears keep coming and he turns away, not wanting his father to see him like this. As a result, when Draco’s arms encircle him and pull his head onto his shoulder, Scorpius is caught completely off guard.

“It’s okay, son,” Draco says softly, “Let it out.”

And with his approval, Scorpius does. He cries into Draco’s neck while hands rub his back and his hair soothingly. He lets out all his frustration that they haven’t found the solution yet and his terror that they won’t. He cries out the stress and the pressure and the anxiety until the tears run dry, and through it all Draco holds him as he hasn’t done since Scorpius was a boy. Draco wipes Scorpius’ cheeks gently with a handkerchief.

“It will be alright, son.”

He says it with such strength and conviction that Scorpius has no choice but to believe him.

* * *

Harry’s sat with Al when Scorpius arrives home, and from the tired and despondent look on his face Scorpius knows it still isn’t good news on their front, either. Harry gets up without a word, squeezing Scorpius’ shoulder on his way out. Scorpius ignores the loo seat and kneels down next to the bath, kissing Al softly.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

To his surprised, Al pulls back and picks at his finger webbing, avoiding Scorpius’ eyes. “You don’t have to pretend, you know.”

Scorpius frowns. “Pretend what?”

“That you aren’t completely disgusted by me.”

Scorpius gapes. “What?”

Al makes an expression that is probably supposed to be angry but just looks wounded. “I saw your face this morning, when I was eating the fish. My dad pulled a similar one later. You looked sick. You don’t have to hide it, you know. I’m a big boy, I understand...”

“Oh Al...” Scorpius breathes, closing his eyes briefly in pain, “You can’t think that. Don’t ever think that.”

“But it’s true,” Al murmurs.

“Of course it fucking isn’t,” Scorpius says, and he takes advantage of Al’s surprise at the coarse language to loop an arm around his neck and pull him in for a searing kiss. He grips Al’s hair, kissing fiercely, and Al makes his funny clicking sound and holds tight to Scorpius, wanting comfort, reassurance. Scorpius moans and, before he realises what he’s doing, he’s climbing over the side of the bath and falling in on top of Al. Al splutters in surprise as a wave of water flows over the top of the tub and drenches the bathroom floor.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Scorpius lifts an eyebrow, trying to look imperious, but it is a hard look to pull off when his hair is plastered to his forehead and his soaked clothes cling to his skin. “You know I prefer baths to showers. I’ve put up with the latter for the past few days whilst you’ve been hogging the tub, but today I just feel like a nice long soak.”

“You’re mental,” Al says in disbelief.

“Only just realised that, have you?” Scorpius says as he trails a finger teasingly over Al’s bare chest, “Does it bother you?”

“Merlin, no,” Al breathes, and puts his tongue to a far more satisfactory use. Scorpius groans around it and grips onto Al’s biceps tightly, trusting the other man to keep him afloat. Al’s body flexes and ripples beneath him, far more supple than it was before, and Scorpius’ groin throbs approvingly. He unconsciously slips his hand down to Al’s waist, tracing the area where the skin blends into scales. Al shivers – apparently he’s sensitive there. Scorpius gives it a quick pinch before dropping his hand further. Almost immediately Al tears his mouth away and grabs Scorpius’ hand, preventing him from going further.

“Don’t,” he whispers brokenly, “You know I can’t.”

Scorpius suddenly brings to mind the book he read that morning in his father’s library, the one with the detailed illustrations that had him flushing Quaffle-red. “You can. Trust me,” he murmurs.

Al shudders, face conflicted, before slowly releasing Scorpius’ wrist. Scorpius peppers gentle, soothing kisses along Al’s jaw line until he relaxes, before slowly returning his hand to Al’s tail. Al trembles but makes no move to stop him, and Scorpius probes gently and carefully with two fingers for the single notched scale the book mentioned. He knows the instant he finds it; Al throws his head back and groans, slipping beneath the water. He pulls Scorpius with him, and Scorpius has a brief moment of panic at the thought of drowning, but then Al seems to realise what he’s done and quickly propels them to the surface.

“Sorry,” he gasps as Scorpius splutters.

“S’okay,” Scorpius pants, latching back onto Al’s mouth and returning his fingers to that spot on Al’s tail. Al keens and clicks, and Scorpius can feel him emerging, lengthening. Shortly there’s enough to get his fist round and he does so, and the noises Al makes are the sweetest music Scorpius has ever heard. All his worries, all his troubles, even his own throbbing arousal, all pale into insignificance and the only thing he can focus on is wringing more of those noises from Al’s throat. Scales slip smoothly beneath his fingers and Al undulates sensually beneath him, his hands desperately clutching at Scorpius’ hair and back. For Scorpius, this feels right. It doesn’t matter that Al’s currently a different species, not human. Only one thing is important – the fact that he can still bring pleasure to the man he loves more than life itself.

“I love you, Al,” he whispers, and that’s what tips Al over the edge. He bites Scorpius’ shoulder as he shudders, his muted groans mixing with Scorpius’ gasps. Eventually Al stills, and he sheepishly pulls his teeth out of Scorpius’ shoulder and kisses the tiny puncture wounds gently.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “Here, let me finish you off.”

“Too late,” Scorpius murmurs, wondering when exactly his body decided that pain was good. He circles Al’s nipple briefly before studying his finger. “I’m all wrinkly.”

Al chuckles. “You’re also still fully clothed.”

“I am?” Scorpius asks in surprise, looking down at himself. How on earth did he miss that fact?

Al smiles lazily and kisses Scorpius’ nose. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Scorpius kisses him back. “I love you, and I will no matter what. You remember that.”

“I will. I love you too.”

* * *

Scorpius’ heart drops when, a week later, his father hands him an open book, his face white.

“I’m sorry, son.”

Scorpius gulps and takes the old tome, scanning the page until he sees the Latin words that match those of the incantation used on Al. He reads the paragraph quickly then, sure he’s read it wrong, reads it again. He reads it for a third time. Then he drops his head into his hands and sobs.

* * *

His legs are numb as he climbs the stairs to the first floor of the home he shares with Al. He can hear everyone talking and laughing; it’s a Saturday, and the entire Potter family has gathered in the bathroom to keep Al company for the day. They sound cheerful. Scorpius already hates himself for having to deliver the news.

He pauses in the bathroom doorway to take in the scene. Al is laughing, gesturing animatedly with his hands and sending water droplets splashing everywhere, which are good-naturedly vanished by Harry. Al’s mother, who Scorpius has never really got on with, has commandeered the loo, and she is wearing a smile that softens her features and takes years off her. Lily is lying on her back, grinning up at the rest of the family, and James lounges against the side of the bath, playing with a snitch. It is the picture of perfect domestic bliss, and Scorpius wishes with all his heart that he didn’t have to ruin it.

It is Al who sees him first. His face lights up in a wide grin, but begins to fall almost instantly when he registers Scorpius’ expression. The rest of the family turn, and suddenly all eyes are on Scorpius. Harry stands up and clears his throat.

“Scorpius? What’s wrong?”

Scorpius pulls a shrunken copy of the important page out of his pocket, enlarges it and hands it to Harry. Harry drains of colour as he scans the text and Scorpius tears his eyes away, back to Al, who’s looking at him with devastated terror.

“Scorp...” he whispers.

Scorpius’ eyes tear up again as he drops to his knees and pulls Al to him, holding him tightly and stroking his hair. “I’m sorry, Al,” he weeps, “I’m so, so sorry.”

* * *

It takes a few days for the fact that the curse can’t be undone to sink in. Scorpius descends into a numb haze, not quite able to believe the events of the last week and a half. Everything had been perfect. He was in love with the man of his dreams, and he was loved in return. They were engaged to get married – the ceremony is scheduled for ten days time. Now, because of one case, one spell, all their plans for the rest of their lives are down the drain.

Even though he doesn’t know what to say, Scorpius tries to get Al to talk. Al, though, has not broken the surface of the water since he read the words for himself. He’s curled up on the bottom of the tub, face hidden by his arms. There are bloody scratches down his tail from his own nails, as if he’s tried to physically tear it off, but he hasn’t managed to dislodge or remove a single scale. Scorpius knows the wounds will heal, but he isn’t sure if Al’s fragile mind will do the same.

It’s a shock, therefore, when he stumbles into the bathroom one morning to use the loo and sees Al, arms folded on the side of the bath, looking up at him miserably. Scorpius forgets all about his need for the loo and kneels down, pulling Al into a gentle, tentative hug which he instantly returns.

“I’m sorry, Scorpius,” Al says.

Scorpius pulls back, looking at him incredulously. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

Al pokes his tail morosely. “Everything. This. If only I’d been quicker... If I’d not frozen when I saw the bodies...”

“Shh,” Scorpius croons, trying to comfort him.

Al pulls back and looks away, not meeting Scorpius’ eyes. “I just want you to know that I’ve never stopped loving you, not once since sixth year, and I hope you meet someone else who’ll treat you right and look after you and...”

“Al,” Scorpius interjects, “Are you breaking up with me?”

Al hangs his head. “It’s for the best. What kind of life would you have with me like this? I’ll be nothing but a burden; it won’t be fair on you...”

Scorpius winces at the raw pain in his voice. “Al, look at me,” he says firmly. When Al doesn’t, Scorpius reaches out, grabs his chin and lifts his head so that they’re eye to eye. “Listen. You may not have realised this, but life isn’t bloody fucking fair. Bad things happen to good people every day, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it except to make the best of what we’ve got. What’s happened to you is bloody awful, I’m not denying that, but you know what? We’ve still got each other. It could just as easily have been the killing curse you got hit with, and then I wouldn’t have you in any shape or form other than as a body to bury.” He brushes a salty cheek off Al’s tear with his thumb. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, because it won’t. It’s going to be bloody hard, and there will be times when we both feel like giving up. I won’t, though, I promise you that, and you know why? Because I love you. I’ll mourn what we could have had, sure, but I’ll always be thankful for what we’ve got. I love you, you bloody dolt, and I’m not about to let you go.”

Al says nothing. Tear tracks wind their way down his cheeks, and Scorpius can’t read the expression in his eyes. Scorpius bites his lip.

“Well?”

Al laughs. “That was more swear words in one paragraph than you’ve used in your entire life.”

Scorpius opens his mouth to respond, but before he can do so Al grips the front of his pyjama top and yanks him into a brutal, possessive kiss that sets every single one of Scorpius’ nerve endings on fire. His hand is on Al’s neck, and he can feel the pulse, strong and steady, beneath his fingertips. He moans softly and pulls his mouth away from Al’s, instead resting his head on Al’s strong shoulder. Al embraces him gently, and Scorpius doesn’t want him to ever let go.

“So, are we still going to get married?” he asks quietly.

Al’s arms tighten. “Yes, we’re still getting married.”

* * *

“What do you mean, we can’t get married?” Scorpius asks in horror.

Hermione’s face is grim, an equal blend of anger and sorrow. “Exactly that, Scorpius. I’m sorry.”

Scorpius feels a gentle touch on his arm and he reaches up to grip Al’s hand tightly. Al’s face is pale and drawn.

“Why?” he asks brokenly.

Hermione bites her lip and brushes at imaginary wrinkles in her shirt. Harry leans forward. He looks tired, and the events of the last few weeks seem to have aged him years.

“Hermione?” he prompts.

She sighs. “You’re aware, Scorpius, that I work in the Beast division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, yes?” He nods in reply. “Well, whenever another department works a case that involves, in any way, shape or form, an individual classed as a beast, a report comes through our office that has to be read and signed off. It’s so we can monitor our colleagues’ behaviour and make sure they act according to the book; despite our best efforts, prejudices against non-humans are still rife.” She shoots Al a pitying look. “One of the reports that came through this morning was your Poulter case. Al, I’m so sorry, but the magic has recognised your new form and classed you as a merman, as a beast, and it’s against the wizarding law in Britain for a magical beast to wed a magical being. I’ve spent all day going through the legislation, but there are no loopholes we can jump through. I’m sorry.”

Scorpius feels his rage build and he digs his nails into his palm. “Al isn’t a beast.”

Hermione pounds a fist onto the sink in frustration. “That’s the most exasperating thing. According to the Stump classification merfolk qualify for being status, but as a race they declined, and a single individual can’t choose to adopt the alternative classification. This free will is one of the things I’ve been campaigning for since I joined the department, but none of my colleagues want to face the hassle changing things would create. Al, Scorpius, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Al says.

That might be true, Scorpius thinks, but he can still hear the despair in Al’s voice. Since he discovered he is stuck like this, the thought of the wedding is the only thing that makes Al’s eyes light up. Over the past two days they’ve spent hours poring over all their booking notes, making sure every tiny detail has been thought of and planned. Venue, invitations, food, drink, band... Thankfully they originally chose an outdoor venue so conjuring some sort of pool shouldn’t be a problem, and the only thing they had to change on the menu was to include a fish dish for Al. Now, it seems as if all their planning and preparation has gone to waste. Scorpius closes his eyes hopelessly. Part of him thinks that perhaps it’s a sign that he and Al just aren’t meant to be, but when Al’s slippery, webbed fingers brush his cheek comfortingly, he leans in and basks in the rightness of it. There is no way he’s giving this man up.

“I’ll keep looking,” Hermione promises, “I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything.”

“Thanks, Aunt Hermione,” Al murmurs, and kisses Scorpius’ cheek before sinking beneath the water and curling up at the bottom of the tub. Scorpius sighs and pushes himself to his feet. He desperately needs to forget.

“Well, we’ve got a bottle of Ogden’s finest downstairs that we were going to crack open on the wedding night. Al can’t drink it now anyway, and apparently we aren’t going to have a wedding night. Fancy a glass or ten?”

Neither of them turns him down.

* * *

To Scorpius’ absolute, incredulous amazement, it is James that provides them with the answer.

The day dawns brilliantly sunny, and Scorpius curls up on the window seat downstairs in the living room in the warm patch of light. He is supposed to be getting married today, but Hermione hasn’t managed to find any way around the being/beast ban, and so it was with a heavy heart that he and Harry cancelled all the arrangements two days earlier. He sips his coffee from the mug Al got him for his birthday with ‘My Gryffindor makes me purr’ printed on the side in alternating red and gold letters, wondering whether Al is going to surface today. He doesn’t think so.

The Floo flares to life, making him jump, and he grips his mug more firmly. Harry and James step into his living room, both looking sombre.

“Morning. Has he come up yet?” Harry asks, and when Scorpius shakes his head Harry heads for the staircase. James flops inelegantly onto the sofa, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, and Scorpius can’t help but smile at the fact that this entire fiasco, whilst devastating, has finally been the catalyst that’s brought him and James together.

“I’m coping,” he says.

James sighs and nods. “It’s just so bloody stupid. It’s not like Al’s an acromantula; I don’t care what Hagrid says, those things are as beastly as they come. The bloody bureaucrats at the Ministry probably won’t even take into account the fact that he’s an Australian merman and not a British one. It’s not like he can only speak mermish, is it? He’s perfectly coherent and... Scorpius?”

But any more words he might have are lost on deaf ears. Scorpius’ Gryffindor mug goes crashing to the floor, spilling coffee everywhere, but for once staining the angora rug is unimportant. He pushes past James, grabs a handful of Floo powder and moments later he’s tumbling out into his father’s manor. It’s quite possibly the most ungraceful landing he’s ever made, but his technique is the last thing on his mind as he dashes down the corridor and into the library. The pile of books cousin Maurice sent over, forgotten in the events of the last two weeks, are still stacked up on one table, and Scorpius throws himself at them, digging through the pile until he finds the one he wants, the one he remembers because of its illustrations. He flicks through desperately to the chapter on mermaids and when he scans the title page, he feels like he might explode from happiness.

‘Merfolk’, the chapter title reads, and below that, ‘Australian Magic Bureau Classification – Being’. He laughs aloud, the sound obscuring that of footsteps as two people hurry into the library.

“Scorpius?” his father asks, “Is there any reason you’re here in your dressing gown and slippers?”

“Is everything alright?” James asks cautiously.

Scorpius laughs again, thrusts the book at his father, grabs James’ face in both hands and plants a huge wet kiss on his cheek. James yelps, pulling away and backpedalling until he trips over a footstool and falls onto his arse with a thud.

“You’re bloody brilliant,” Scorpius tells him, and before his shocked brother-in-law-to-be can manage a response Scorpius is running back to the Floo. He loses a slipper along the way, but even the splinter that works its way into the ball of his foot doesn’t slow him down. He gets half way there, then wonders why the hell he hasn’t just apparated, so he does so, landing in the bathroom and almost giving poor Harry a heart attack. Scorpius shouts an apology and, before the rational side of his brain can catch up with the emotional side, he throws himself into the bathtub. Al twists round, looking up at Scorpius with a gobsmacked expression, and before he can say anything Scorpius grabs his face and kisses him passionately. Bubbles trail from the corners of Scorpius’ mouth as his tongue duels Al’s, and he rapidly runs out of air. He pushes himself back up, drawing deep, rapid breaths as Al surfaces cautiously besides him.

“Scorp?” he asks dubiously.

Scorpius pushes heavy, wet hair out of his eyes, only just realising that Al’s doesn’t look wet at all. It must be waterproof, he thinks, like a duck’s feathers.

“Scorpius!” Al yells to get his attention, “What the hell?”

“I’m going to marry you!” Scorpius announces giddily.

Al’s face crumples. “We can’t, Scorpius. We bloody can’t.”

“We can in Australia,” Scorpius says, “You’re a being over there.”

Harry gasps. Al stares at Scorpius, his expression transforming from despair to confusion to hopeful delight.

“Really?” he whispers.

“Really,” Scorpius says, and leans in for another kiss.

* * *

Scorpius worries the two pieces of parchment in his hand as he kneels in front of the fireplace. His father’s given him one of them – it’s the Floo address for cousin Maurice. Draco says he seems like a nice enough chap, and suggested that Scorpius fire-call him and ask whether or not he would be willing to put Scorpius up for a few days and help him direct his search for suitable properties. After all, it’s hardly fair on Al to make him spend the rest of his life in the bathtub, and any lake in England would be far too cold for him. He needs warm water, and Scorpius thinks Australia is as good a place as any.

He found the other piece of parchment tucked between the pages of one of Maurice’s books earlier on today. A name and a Floo address, that was all, but they were enough to throw his mind into turmoil, and it hasn’t stopped since.

He can’t help but feel slightly sick at the prospect of looking for a house just for him. It’ll seem so empty without Al, who’ll be confined to a lake or a pool. He’ll be so lonely, too. Scorpius doesn’t think he’ll have to work – he’s sure his father would agree to support them financially – but it’s more than that. They won’t be able to go to a Quidditch match, or the theatre, or for a lazy walk in the park, or any of the other random, spur of the moment things couples usually do. Even though they’ll be married, Scorpius’ heart breaks for him.

He again glances down at the second piece of parchment. The seeds of an idea were planted when he discovered it, and they’ve since been growing all day. It’s crazy, rash, foolish... in other words, entirely Gryffindor. That means Scorpius shouldn’t be considering it, but he is. There are so many variables, so many places where this idea could fall through, but at the end of the day he won’t know if he doesn’t try, will he?

Scorpius takes a deep breath and a handful of Floo powder, and shouts out the name of Austin Summers, the Australian Magic Bureau’s Merfolk Liaison Officer.

* * *

Al turns ashen and looks at him in horror. “No.”

Scorpius sighs. “Al...”

“No!” Al repeats more forcefully, “Absolutely not!”

“Al...” Scorpius tries again.

“No, Scorpius! Just... no. Forget about it. If you think I’m going to let you...”

“You’re not going to ‘let me’ do anything. It’s my decision to make.”

Al flicks his tail in agitation, sending showers of water everywhere. “You can’t, Scorpius. You can’t give up your entire life for me.”

Scorpius raises an eyebrow. “Even if I don’t do this, Al, we’re moving to the other side of the bloody world. I’m already going to be leaving my father, my job...”

Anguish flashes across Al’s face and he closes his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to. You should have said if you didn’t want to, if you want to call it off...”

“Of course I don’t want to call the bloody wedding off,” Scorpius snaps, frustrated that he can’t properly explain what he means, “If anything, take all of that as an example of how much I love you. I’m willing to leave my father, and I’m willing to leave my job, and I’m willing to do this, too, because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“This is a little bit different to just emigrating, though. Your dad and my family won’t be able to just come and see us any time they like; what about them? They’ll be devastated.”

“For once in your life, Al, please, stop being a Gryffindor and just be bloody selfish!” Scorpius barks, “What do _you_ want most? Not what my father will want, or your dad, or your mum, or James and Lily. You. What will make you happy?”

Al sighs and reaches out a hand. Scorpius obligingly slips his own into it.

“You. I want you,” Al whispers, “But I still hate the thought of you giving everything up for me.”

“You still don’t get it,” Scorpius murmurs, “I don’t give a damn about what I’m giving up, when I get you in return. Choosing this for myself is me being selfish, Al, but it’s _my_ life, and this is what _I_ want.”

He feels Al’s thumb shift across his wrist and realises it was pressed against his pulse, monitoring it whilst he was speaking. Al looks at him in wonder, blinking back tears.

“You’re telling the truth. You really, actually want to do this.”

“Yes,” Scorpius says, “I really, actually do.”

And the kiss they share is the sweetest one yet.

* * *

Scorpius tightens his arm around Al, keeping him steady as he sits on the side of the bath. Harry turns the belt, which he’s fastened into a loop, over in his hands nervously. Everyone else has gone on ahead, and it’s only the three of them left. The house seems quiet and very, very empty. Everything has gone, donated either to charity or one of Al’s siblings or cousins. The house itself is on the market and Al, with Scorpius’ blessing, has entrusted any money they get from the sale to Harry with instructions to set up trust funds for any children James and Lily might have in the future.

Harry checks his watch and hands Scorpius the belt. “Twenty seconds.”

Scorpius nods, squeezing Al hard. Al loops one arm around Scorpius’ neck and reaches out to grip the belt with his other hand. Harry waits until the last possible moment before hefting Al’s tail up out of the water and grabbing the belt. Al immediately starts to gasp, but the next moment the portkey – sent over from Australia – activates and the three of them are whisked out of the bathroom.

Scorpius has used international portkeys before, but he’s only every travelled to Europe. This journey is at least five times longer than any he’s ever made and he fights to keep hold of Al, who is shaking quite hard, obviously suffering for being out of the water. After what seems an eternity they touch down onto fine white sand and Scorpius swivels his head, looking desperately for the sea. It’s not hard to find; the ocean is a vast expanse of brilliantly blue, crystal clear water stretching off to the horizon, and he and Harry instantly dash for it, Al supported between them. Scorpius races into the water, spray flying everywhere, and at the feel of it on his skin and scales Al wriggles out of his grasp and drops into the shallow surf.

“Oh god, that’s better,” he groans as he lies face up, scooping water up onto his chest.

“I should think so,” comes a new voice with an evident Australian twang.

Scorpius pivots in the water, eyes widening when he sees the speaker. The mermaid looks to be his father’s age and has thick auburn hair that is tied back with a band of seashells. Her torso is covered by a garment made of what Scorpius thinks is seaweed, and her crimson tail hangs off the rock she’s perched on and trails lazily in the water. She holds out a hand.

“This is, I believe, your greeting custom?”

Scorpius blinks and strides forwards to take it. “Yes, it is. You don’t shake hands in Australia?”

She laughs, the sound musical. “Merfolk don’t shake hands, Australian or not.”

“Oh,” Scorpius murmurs, blushing.

Al appears next to him, huffing and puffing from trying to manoeuvre in the shallow water. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Al.”

“So I gathered,” she says as she shakes his hand, “And you must be Scorpius. My name is Firwyn, and I am the representative of my colony.” She looks Al in the eye. “We were very moved by your plight. You will be made most welcome – everyone is looking forward to meeting you.”

“Thanks,” Al says quietly and Scorpius brushes his cheek in support. He glances at the beach and sees that everyone is watching them; his father, Al’s parents, James, Lily, Austin Summers and an unknown man Scorpius presumes is the minister. They said goodbye to Al’s extended family yesterday in a series of emotional and tear-filled meetings, as they both thought it best to avoid long and drawn out goodbyes as much as possible today. Scorpius beckons them forwards so that they can introduce themselves to Firwyn, and he takes the opportunity to finally thank Austin Summers in person for setting this up.

“Not a problem,” Austin says, “I’m glad to help.”

Al reaches up a hand; he’s never met Austin before, after all. “Really, Mr Summers, thank you so much, but how did you manage to sort everything out so quickly?”

Austin chuckles. “I’m not Merfolk Liaison Officer for nothing, you know. As it happens I’ve got a twin book that’s been paired to a slate Firwyn keeps, which is how we communicate.”

“Twin book?” Al asks, “What’s that?”

It’s Harry that answers. “Twin books usually come in pairs, and anything written in one immediately appears in the other. They used to be used as a means of communication between Auror teams, before sending a message with a patronus became common practice.”

“That’s right,” Austin confirms, “And we had an odd one lying about which we managed to pair with a scuba diving slate. It means Firwyn and I can communicate instantly even though I’m in my office and she’s on the seabed with her colony. I’m sure she wouldn’t be adverse to you using it to write messages to me, which I’m happy to pass along to your families.”

“We’d really appreciate that,” Draco says, and the Potter family nod in agreement. Scorpius smiles slightly, the ability to communicate like that putting his mind at rest slightly. Austin nods and grins.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to see these two lovebirds get hitched. Who’s with me?”

* * *

Scorpius sits in the water, holding Al’s hands and looking into his eyes. They sparkle even brighter than his tail scales, shimmering slightly with tears, and Scorpius is sure his own are the same. Their wedding rings hang on gold chains around their necks, the webbing between Al’s fingers preventing them going on their usual place. A gentle wave rolls up, catching Scorpius’ bare nipples and he hisses softly. Al grins and mischievously flicks his tail so that the fin gently brushes over Scorpius’ bare calf, eliciting a shiver.

Their guests are all stood barefoot in the shallower water, where it laps no higher than their ankles, and Firwyn watches the proceedings from atop her rock. They’re all smiling, happy for them, even though Scorpius knows they must be hurting inside. He squeezes Al’s hands softly and Al squeezes back, comforting him. Scorpius suddenly realises he’s not paying any attention whatsoever to the minister, and when he does so, his breath hitches.

“,,,Declare Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy to be lawfully wedded husbands. You may kiss the groom.”

Scorpius grins and laughs, seeing the same joy he feels reflected on Al – his husband’s – face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Al whispers as he leans forwards.

Scorpius closes his eyes, wiggles his toes one last time, and leans in to press his lips to Al’s.

He feels the magic wrap around him and he shudders; Al, sensing it, throws his arms around Scorpius and holds him tight. Scorpius groans, his soggy boxers forced off his growing legs as the skin knits together and hardens. His toes fuse and his feet flatten, and he shivers when he feels the water flow over his fin for the first time.

It’s over in seconds and, although it was completely painless, he’s breathing hard. Even though he planned this, even though this is what he wants, it’s still jarring to realise that he’s no longer human. He clings to Al tightly, wanting reassurance that it’s okay and nothing’s gone wrong.

“You’re gorgeous,” Al whispers, and then Scorpius’ eyes fly wide open when he feels a hand on his tail for the first time. He looks down at himself in amazement. Like Al, his tail matches his eyes, but rather than being a dull grey the sparkling scales look silver, reflecting the light like little gemstones. He withdraws his hands from Al’s back to stare at the webbing between his fingers, poking at it experimentally.

“Are you okay?” Al asks worriedly.

Scorpius looks up and cups his cheek. “Never better,” he says softly, and leans in for another kiss. He honestly does mean it. He knows it will be hard on his father and on Harry’s family, not having a house they can Floo to or write letters to, but after much deliberation this is the only solution he came up with that would let him be with Al the way he wants to. They’re equals now, and Scorpius knows he would hate to have it any other way.

Al pulls back and Scorpius lets him go reluctantly. “What?”

Al jerks his heat towards the shore, and Scorpius realises that he’s completely forgotten that they have company on the beach. Everyone’s watching them, wide-eyed, and Scorpius’ stomach flips when he sees the mixed emotions written on his father’s face.

“Come on,” Al says, and with a quick flick of his tail he’s at the shore. Scorpius tries to do the same but he’s not used to his tail yet and he ends up doing nothing but spinning in a circle. He sighs and just uses breaststroke arms, which works a hell of a lot better with his webbed fingers. He quickly runs aground, sand rubbing his stomach uncomfortably, but he barely has time to grumble before there are arms encircling him, pulling him up and hugging him tightly. Scorpius, finally feeling the enormity of what’s about to happen, sniffs and holds on securely.

“You’re magnificent, son,” Draco says thickly, “For a half-fish.”

“Thanks,” Scorpius laughs, before burrowing his head into Draco’s neck, “I’m going to miss you, dad.”

Draco gasps and squeezes tighter – it’s the first time Scorpius has called him that for over twenty years. “I’ll miss you too, Scorpius. I love you, son. Look after yourself.”

Scorpius nods and, blinking back tears, reluctantly lets go of his father and moves down the line. James claps his shoulder and shakes his hand, Lily gives him a brief hug and Ginny kisses his cheek. Harry looks heartbroken and guilty, and Scorpius pulls him into a hug as big as the one he gave his own father.

“Thank you, Harry,” he says. Harry nods jerkily, and Scorpius wonders whether it was a mistake to ask Harry to transfigure him. He was the obvious choice to Scorpius; not only is he the strongest magically, but he is Al’s dad, and it still bugs Scorpius that he never asked for Harry’s permission to marry Al. This way, he feels like Harry has given their union his blessing by making it so they can be together.

“Take care, Scorpius,” Harry whispers, “And look after my boy.”

“I will.”

Harry pulls back and nods stiffly before turning to Austin. “Is it, I mean, can we come and visit them here?”

Austin nods. “Of course. This cove is completely private and warded against both muggles and magical folk. It belongs to Firwyn’s colony – apparently there are quite a few of them that like to sunbathe. Just let me know when you want to visit and I’ll let Al and Scorpius know you’re coming through the twin book. I’ve hooked you all up to the wards so you can apparate in and out.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs softly, and that makes Scorpius feel slightly better.

A throat clears delicately behind them. “I’m really sorry,” Firwyn says, slipping off her rock, “But we’re going to have to leave if we want to make it to the colony before dark.”

A part of Scorpius wants to tell her to go and come back tomorrow, but he knows that the longer this is drawn out the more painful it’s going to be. He glances over at Al, who nods. It’s time.

“Bye everyone,” he says softly, and before he can change his mind he pushes himself away from the shore towards the deeper water. Again, he can’t get his tail to work and he glares at it angrily.

“How on earth do you work this thing?” he asks Al, who’s looping lazy circles around him.

“Practice,” Al says, and holds out his hand, “Here, I’ll pull you for now.”

Scorpius takes it, and then the water is rushing against his face as Al swims after Firwyn at lightning speed. They’re close to the surface of the water and every now and then Al arcs out of it like a dolphin would. They swim a fair distance out, the sand sloping gradually beneath them, Firwyyn stops suddenly.

“We dive here,” she says, flipping her body and swimming downwards.

“Just a minute,” Scorpius calls out and turns to face Al, “Have we done the right thing?”

Al smiles and reaches up to grasp the ring hanging around his neck. “Yeah, I think we have.”

“Good,” Scorpius says, and before he can help it he swims upwards and breaks the surface of the water. He turns around for one last look. His father and Al’s family are clustered together on the beach, waving frantically. He raises his own arm in farewell, waving back. Then Al takes his hand, smiles at him, and they sink down beneath the waves.


End file.
